


The Greatest Imperfection

by gelignite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Magic, Gen, Guardian Severus Snape, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Third Year, Mentor Severus Snape, Sirius is kind of a jerk, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-01-31 17:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelignite/pseuds/gelignite
Summary: In a different reality, Voldemort won the wizarding war. Over a decade later, a visitor from that world comes to Hogwarts. Who is she and what is her connection to the Boy Who Lived? AU, OC, Hogwarts 3rd Year. Rated T for language.





	1. Conceal. Deflect. Keep your secrets.

_"Oi, posho," Ruby hissed at the white-blond head down the deserted corridor. Draco, wearing his school robes and typical haughty air, swiveled and narrowed his eyes at the tall girl. He was careful to look around and confirm they were alone before he answered. They walked the few steps toward one another on the gray institutional tiles._

_"Aren't you supposed to be in Household Charms class with the other halfies?" He sneered. "You sure you want to get caught skiving after last time?"_

_Ruby rolled her eyes and held up her left hand. Her palm was criss-crossed with faint pink lines, the result of the caning from several days before. "Almost healed, and the Beak'll be itching for a chance to beat me anyway. Why not give her a reason?" She said, using the students' nickname for their despised headmistress._

_"Besides," she lowered her hand and reached into the satchel at her hip, "That class is rubbish. There's not a chance in hell I'm going to go into domestic service. I'm saving Gorley the hassle of trying to teach me shirt starching charms."_

_"That's Charms Mistress Gorley, girl!" Draco imitated the insufferable witch's perpetually sour expression and nasal, squawking voice. "And don't forget it!"_

_Ruby smirked. "That's good. You should go out for the Junior Follies - I heard it's Robin Hood again this year. I bet Parkinson would love to see you in tights."_

_Draco flushed. "Aw, you're daft."_

_"I've got something to show you," Ruby pulled the prize from her satchel. She held it up with a look of triumph._

_"What's that?" Draco eyed the cracked plastic hair comb with a confused expression. "A comb?"_

_"No," Ruby grinned at him. "I mean, yes it's a comb, but it's also something else. Something very important." She gave him a meaningful look._

_"Is that…" Draco's eyes widened and he lowered his voice to a whisper, looking around the empty corridor again. They were still alone: only grey walls and closed doors surrounded them. "A portkey! You really are daft! You got it? How?"_

_"Doesn't matter," Ruby said, stuffing the comb back into her bag again with a smooth motion._

_"Where'd you get it? How do you even know it works? How much did you pay? It must have cost a fortune-"_

_"It works," She cut in. "I'm sure it works. You're ignoring the most important thing: It's the last piece we needed. We can do the ritual. We're ready."_

_Draco gaped at Ruby. "Are you sure? I mean… You still want to do it?"_

_"You can't back out, Draco. You promised." Ruby said, voice firm._

_"I'm not going to back out. I just, you know, what to make sure that you're ready. Sirius said it's too dangerous-"_

_"I know what he said," Ruby interrupted him. "But we have no choice. We have to do it soon. And I'm ready. We've already put in so much work…" She gave him a beseeching look. "Please, Draco. This is important. You know how important this is."_

_"Yes, okay. All right." He glared at her. "But when we get caught, I'm telling Sirius it was all your idea."_

_She frowned. "We aren't going to get caught, and I can handle him if we do."_

_Draco scoffed at her bravado. "He'll have your guts for garters."_

_"Our guts," She corrected. "If you think I'm not going to take you down with me, you're mad."_

_"Please," Draco sniffed, resuming his typical disdainful demeanor. "You're the halfblood orphan charity case, and I'm the pureblood heir. Who do you think is going to get the blame when it all goes sideways?"_

_Ruby smirked at him and reached up to playfully ruffle his coiffed hair. "Prat."_

_Draco squeaked and covered his head, glaring daggers from under his arms._

This was where the memory ended. Everything in the dream up to now was the way it had actually happened, as Ruby remembered. They'd spoken a few more words. They were both planning to be home for dinner (their glorious privilege as day students), and they would talk about plans then. Draco went on to his potions tutorial. Ruby snuck down to the laundry to hide out and smoke cigarettes before her next pointless class. She was hoping to avoid the roving prefects and survive the day without being hauled into the Beak's office.

This time, though, it was different. None of that happened. Instead, they stood stock still in the corridor, a sense of dread tinting the scene. The memory was changing.

Ruby suddenly remembered feeling very cold. Cold, and empty. It was like the flick of a light switch. Draco looked up from the hair-mussing, a sneer on his lips. The color drained from his face as he stared, wide-eyed at something behind her.

"What? Draco, what is it?" Ruby turned and saw... nothing. Where there should have been a corridor with classroom doors, there was only darkness. The darkness was solid, like a mass of smoke, and it was moving toward them. Panicked, Ruby turned back to shout for Draco to run, but he was gone. The darkness was moving toward her from the other side as well. It was freezing. Her heart fell into her feet and she wanted to scream, but couldn't make the air leave her lungs. She couldn't breathe. The darkness pressed in from both sides. She stood there, freezing and choking, for long minutes as the creeping dark closed in on her.

She woke with a start and looked around, heart jumping in her chest.

She'd dozed off again. She was back in the hospital. She wasn't supposed to be here. The ritual should have worked.

It must have been a stupid mistake. Probably a mispronounced word in the tedious incantation or a gap in the circle of runes that she'd laid down. Ruby had been practicing the ritual for months. She'd been convinced that she was ready, but Sirius wasn't. Maybe he was right. She must have been flustered enough to do something wrong, because this really was not the result she had expected.

Stuck in a bloody hospital bed in who-knows-where after encountering a Dementor… At least that was what she'd been told when she woke up. She didn't even know where she was or who might be close by, which was bad. Very bad.

She cursed her momentary lapse of self-control, and knew she was cursing her own reckless stupidity. If Sirius were here, he would have told her that everyone makes mistakes and to not be so hard on herself. That would be after he gave her a royal ticking off for being so stupid in the first place. The thought came unbidden, slithering through a widening crack in her shields. If he were here…

Ruby's eyes burned as tears formed and blinked them back forcefully. She was on her own now. She had convinced Draco to go ahead with the ritual against Sirius' wishes, against his warnings. It had taken several nerve-wracking weeks to pull off, weeks of sneaking and lying at school and at home. They'd bartered with a goblin for the blood spell to bind Ruby to the Lamp. She bought an illicit portkey. Finally, they did the ritual: the one that was supposed to bring them closer to salvation, the one that Sirius had forbidden as too risky.

Ruby knew better, though, didn't she? Stubborn, bloody-minded little shit, as Sirius called her. Once she got an idea to do something, she couldn't shake it. She had to do the ritual now, before the next full moon. She must have been convincing, too, to get Draco in on the scheme; he was always so scared of pissing off the adults.

She'd showed him the evidence that Sirius had dismissed. The star charts and the numbers all showed that their window would close soon. Even the weird seer in Knockturn who foretold the future using spiders said that it was time for her to do it. She'd been itchy as she watched the hunched, wizened witch peer over her jars of hairy spiders, scrutinising patterns in the jostled nests. In the end, the signs were all the same: Do it now.

Apparently, she trusted soulless divination more than she trusted the people who cared for her. After all, Sirius and the others only had decades of experience and tutelage under one of the greatest wizards who ever lived! What did Ruby have? Her star charts and arithmancy textbooks? She was also the only one who was willing to do the ritual. That should have been a warning sign.

She had been so desperate. It seemed to be the perfect answer to the problems that she'd created with her own petty antics. There would be no more chances, he'd said, red eyes and rotting meat breath looming large in her memory. Consequences for her bad behavior. _Remember, there are others I could hurt before you_. In her panic, she had gotten in over her head.

She was an idiot.

She remembered some of what happened, before the Dementor: Draco's pale face lit only by lamplight, eyes huge. The massive black door appearing in the smoke. Then the door opening, and Draco screaming her name as she was pulled inside. It had been a rough landing and she barely got her feet under her again before the dark, cold presence was upon her. Sudden, swift pain and terror. The terrible things she'd seen when it enfolded her... The pain that wracked her body and bit into her soul…

Then, nothing, until she awoke in this unfamiliar place. No wand. No Draco. With any luck, he would find out where she was and send her some help. Until then, she was wandless; but she was not defenseless. The best defense was meticulous preparation. She resolved not to slip up again. She would not make any more mistakes. She swore it.

One of the first and most lasting lessons her father ever taught her: Mistakes brought pain. Case in point. She trembled, remembering the all-consuming pain and fear, then mentally kicked herself again.

_Stop it_ , she scolded herself. _Do what you know how to do. Conceal. Deflect. Keep your secrets_. For what must have been the tenth time that morning, Ruby steeled her resolve. She took several calming breaths and cleared her mind every thought and emotion. Her Occlumency shields were in place. She buried all the things she did not want to feel beneath the floorboards of the grey room in her mind. Everything unwanted was secured and waiting until she had time to deal with them. She could focus.

She looked around again at the stark white room. She fixed her gaze on the fussy looking older woman bent over a cart of medical supplies. The woman wore an old-fashioned nurse's cap and flowing white robes over a matron's uniform. She'd introduced herself earlier as Poppy something, and she'd become increasingly frustrated with Ruby as the morning went on. She seemed to take Ruby's silence and her refusal to take any potions as something of an insult.

The matron was the only person she'd seen so far, but there were voices from beyond the door every now and then. The voices had been low and muffled, and alternated with the matron's staccato footsteps. The matron entered the room periodically to check on Ruby. She would wave her wand over her, or shine a light in her eyes, or comment on her silence. This place was otherwise quiet. Ruby guessed she was matron's only patient.

From her vantage point on the hospital bed, Ruby could see that the matron was now absorbed in reading a chart. Every now and then she tapped her wand on the page and hummed to herself. The door to the room opened, and an old wizard with a long grey beard entered. He was wearing robes the color of an autumn sunset with gold spangles along the sleeves and hems. The pointed cap on his head featured embroidery with thread of the same gold. He wore small, half-moon spectacles. When he smiled at Ruby, his pale blue eyes crinkled.

"Good morning, Madame Pomfrey," the old man said to the nurse, who turned to greet him. "And good morning to you, young lady." He looked at Ruby as though expecting a reply. She said nothing.

"Headmaster," Pomfrey (that was the name she hadn't been able to remember) said crisply as she rolled up the chart. "I've examined our patient for any signs of injury related to the Dementor attack. There are some bumps and bruises, but she won't take the potion to heal them. I couldn't find any other cause for concern except slight dehydration. She may leave the quarantine wing as soon as you wish. I'd like her to stay in the infirmary for 24 hours - unless you'd like me to arrange for her to be transferred to St. Mungo's. That will take some time."

The old man nodded, still smiling at Ruby. "Learn anything new?"

"No," the matron said. She glanced at Ruby with a disapproving look. "Not a word spoken since she awoke. She seems to understand me, but doesn't reply. She's also refused liquids. If this keeps up," she said, a little more severely, "I'm going to have to take extreme measures to ensure she doesn't become more dehydrated."

Ruby wondered what extreme measures she was talking about.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," The old man said, still smiling. His unfailing friendliness was beginning to look like feeble-mindedness to Ruby. Perhaps he was so calm and pleasant because he didn't know any better.

"Mm," Matron Pomfrey made a doubtful noise and looked at the upside-down fob watch pinned to her robe. "I have to attend to something in my office. Headmaster, will you be all right here without me for a brief time?"

In reply, he wordlessly conjured an overstuffed purple armchair and sat a few feet away from the edge of the bed. "Oh, I'll be fine. I'll take this opportunity to get to know our guest."

The matron cast a last glance at Ruby before scooping up her charts and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Ruby looked at the old man again. He was still smiling.

"Now, my dear," The old man said, eyes twinkling in a very grandfatherly manner. "You're probably ready to get out of this room, aren't you? What do you say we find you a more comfortable place to rest and recover from your ordeal?"

Ruby didn't speak. For just a moment, there was the barest hint of pressure on her shields. If he was trying to Legilimise her, he wasn't being very forceful. His face gave no sign that he'd tried anything, though, and he kept talking.

"I don't believe we've met before. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am headmaster here at Hogwarts School. May I offer you a lemon drop?" He produced a small purple tin from the pocket of his robe and held it out to her.

Ruby stared at him. She tried to make sense of what the old man was saying as he prattled on. Hogwarts. She was at Hogwarts? Dumbledore?

"I realise you must have had an awful fright, accosted by Dementors right outside our gates…"

After she awoke in the hospital bed a couple of hours previous, Ruby had been observing her surroundings. All this - everything she experienced since the ritual - may be a dream, or a vision, or an elaborate trick. The Dark Lord was known to enjoy invading minds and creating horrific visions to torment people. She didn't know of anyone suffering his wrath through an hallucination of sitting in a hospital bed for hours on end. It was still a possibility.

Ruby had always been taught to understand exactly what danger she was facing before she acted. Acting without sufficient knowledge led to mistakes. Mistakes brought pain.

"...I've always found that when my spirits need a lift, nothing works quite as well as a sweet..."

So she had watched for any clue that this was not real. She was familiar with visions and how they differed from real life. She noted and analysed details. The movement of sunlight across the smooth plaster walls and tiled floor as early dawn changed to mid-morning. The high, whispery sound of wind whipping beyond the single mullioned window high on the wall. The antiseptic smell of the hospital, sharp and medicinal. The sensation of relief when the matron had cast a cooling charm on Ruby's sweaty face and rumpled hospital gown.

"...you'd rather something more substantial? I can arrange for some breakfast…"

She'd scrutinised her own body: her aching back, dry throat, and her growling stomach. Her bladder, becoming more urgently full with every passing minute. It all seemed perfectly real.

She supposed she might be mad. She had no idea of what to do in that case.

"...interest you in a cup of tea…"

Now she smelled the inviting bright citrus aroma of the candy as the man lifted the lid of the tin. She heard the creek of the springs in his chair as he leaned forward. She saw her own startled reflection in his glasses as he gazed at her. It was real.

So if the hospital was real, and the man in front of her was real, it meant that she was in very serious trouble. The old man smiled at her, waiting for her to respond. Her stomach shriveled.

_My name is Albus Dumbledore_

She knew the stories about Dumbledore, of course. About his greatness and his courage. About his Order of the Phoenix and how hard he'd fought with them during the war. She'd heard stories since she was a little girl. Sirius had imparted them in reverent tones and sometimes, when he was feeling maudlin and had too much to drink, in sorrowful rants.

This man was not Albus Dumbledore, no matter what he said. No matter how kindly he appeared to be, no matter what he offered her, she would not let down her shields. She knew the stories of the war. She knew the grief that Sirius and the other survivors carried in their hearts each day as they struggled against the Dark Lord's regime.

Albus Dumbledore was one the greatest wizards who had ever lived, and Voldemort murdered him more than thirteen years ago.


	2. The World's Biggest Numpty

Remus Lupin scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes and yawned. He was up far too early (or was it too late?) for a Saturday morning. He would have been exhausted regardless. Too many sleepless nights, laying in bed thinking while rest eluded him. Thinking about old enemies and older friends - friends he'd tried to erase from his memory for more than a decade. Memories dredged up by the sights, sounds, and smells of Hogwarts. This castle was his home for seven years; it was the place where he'd been happiest in his whole life. It was also the place that had the most potential to open up his heart and bleed it dry.

This school had its ghosts, particularly well-suited to haunt an enchanted castle in the wild Scottish highlands. Those were mere wisps of smoke compared to what he imagined. His ghosts were vibrant, laughing, full-color. Sometimes he heard the voice of his friends as they'd been at twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Some days he would round a corner and be brought up short by the vision of four boys larking about in the corridors.

And of course, there was Harry.

Harry, who looked so much like his father that Remus was still startled to see the boy smiling at him in the Great Hall. Harry, who was eager to believe in absolute good and evil. Harry, who desperately needed to prepare for the danger that everyone knew was coming for him.

Remus knew that Harry had ghosts, too: His parents, who died to protect him. Sirius, who betrayed them all. The fantasy of what Harry's life might have been like if he hadn't.

So many ghosts, and so much to worry over. Remus tossed and turned, night after night, sleeping little. He wondered why on earth he'd agreed to come back this blasted castle in the first place. His life had been solitary and impoverished before the letter from Albus, but he had not been unhappy. He'd been at peace in his shack in Yorkshire. He slept better, too.

Being roused in the small hours to investigate suspected dark artefacts didn't help his insomnia, but it at least gave him something to do.

Strong coffee and buttered toast bolstered him as he reviewed, again, the index to the large tome in front of him on his small dining table.  _Revenson's Guide to Dark Artefacts: 1850 - 1980 A.D._ He'd already searched the volumes for the preceding centuries, and several other reference texts, with no luck. Remus sipped his coffee and grabbed for the old bronze lamp, squinting as he flipped it over, looking for a hallmark - again. He found nothing. Again.

The lamp looked ancient. It was about the size and shape of a large saucière, with a wide ring-shaped handle and two small openings - one on top for oil, and one in front for the wick. After his initial spells hadn't found any trace of a curse, he'd spent hours researching. He researched the shape of the lamp, the material it was cast from, and the elaborate decorations that graced it on all sides. A winged woman who wore what looked like a long flat helmet glared at him from the tarnished shoulders with a fierce expression. He discovered that she was most likely Eos, Greek Goddess of the Dawn. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like an ordinary antique oil lamp. If this object was hiding a dark curse, it was beyond his skills to find it.

Lamps didn't figure much in Dark Iconography. They were basically the opposite of what the Dark Arts were about, as they cast light and drove away shadows. Across the various reference materials he found entries on deluminators, cursed torches, and hundreds of entries on candles. There was nothing that resembled the lamp.

He rubbed his eyes again, sighing. He needed to sort out his insomnia. He still had months left on his teaching contract. He was no good to anyone if he couldn't keep his eyes open in the classroom - or on the rare occasion that someone consulted him as Hogwarts' resident Dark Arts expert. Almost impulsively, he decided to go see Poppy about a sleeping draught. He'd pop into the infirmary on his way to see Albus, and after that he could come back to his rooms and nap.

Abandoning his research, Remus wrapped the lamp back up in the velvet-lined pouch. He shoved a last bite of toast in his mouth before leaving his rooms. He made his way down the stairs toward the Infirmary. The corridors were mostly empty. Students awake at this hour of the morning on a Saturday were either in the Great Hall eating breakfast or already on their way to Hogsmeade for the day.

Harry wouldn't be among those students leaving the castle. Remus knew that it depressed him to be left out of his classmate's fun on Hogsmeade Saturdays. He decided to send the boy a note later and invite him to tea. Maybe they could even get in an extra Patronus lesson... if Remus could keep his eyes open.

He rounded the foot of the stairs, thinking about his afternoon schedule, and almost collided with Severus Snape.

"Good morning, Severus." Remus smiled.

Severus looked like he smelled something foul. He was wearing his teaching robes even though it was Saturday. Or perhaps he, too, had been up all night and had never changed out of them.

"Did you happen to catch the ruckus last night?" Remus asked.

"The ruckus." His colleague enunciated the consonants of that word as though his life depended on it.

Remus nodded. "Albus woke me at half two - there was an attack down by the front gates. Dementors, I understand. I wonder what was-"

Severus sneered. "If Sirius Black is captured by Dementors at Hogwarts' gates, you can rest assured that I will be the first to know about it, and my celebrations will wake the whole castle," He said, answering an unspoken question. "As it is, the ruckus, as you say, was not Dementors. They haven't come close to the gates in weeks. It was merely a vagrant from Hogsmeade wandering where they had no business wandering. Probably drunk. Definitely witless."

"Really? In this weather?" It had been dreary all winter and the roads from Hogsmeade were treacherously slick in the rain and wind.

Severus glared at him. "Do you doubt me, Lupin? I have seen the trespasser myself, dragged unconscious to the infirmary."

"Oh, well," Remus said thoughtfully, crossing one arm across his chest to hug his elbow. He hoped Severus was being hyperbolic. Surely unconscious visitors weren't being dragged anywhere on castle grounds. "That explains it then. I just wondered if you knew anything about the-"

He was cut off as a group of Ravenclaw first-years blew past him, screeching and laughing as they sprinted down the corridor. Severus' dark countenance grew even stormier as he watched the students scamper off. He stalked after them without a word, no doubt to give some detentions or at least a severe tongue-lashing.

"Ah," Remus said to no one, and then continued his trek to the infirmary. He pushed the doors open and was surprised to see Albus already there, talking to Poppy. The old headmaster turned to beam at him when he entered.

"Remus! Just who I was hoping to see." He was quite cheerful for having been awake all night. Remus was never surprised by Albus' good moods. He only wondered how the older wizard did it, day after day, regardless of circumstances. "Have you been able to find out anything about the lamp?"

"No, not yet. It doesn't seem dangerous, at least. Not from my, ah… my research." Remus' eyes shifted to Poppy, who was uninterested in their conversation. She bustled off to her office.

The Infirmary's lone patient, a dark-haired girl, stared at him from one of the nearby beds. A crumpled copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  rested on her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Her bedside table was quite crowded. There was a covered platter of something that smelled like bacon, a small crystal dish of chocolate bonbons, and bunches of green and red grapes. She also had a collection of beverages: A tall glass of pumpkin juice, a cup of steaming tea, and a pitcher of water with a squat goblet all teetered close to the edge of the table. The girl ignored the gustatory delights at her elbow. She watched Remus and Albus intently.

"Good," Albus said, and then quickly changed the subject. "I wonder. Would you permit me to introduce you to our guest?" He placed a hand on Remus' arm and guided him over to the row of infirmary beds. The girl perched on top of the covers. She was barefoot and wearing a hospital gown that was baggy on her lanky frame, wrapped around her body twice. She was tense, as though ready to spring to her feet at any second. Remus idly wondered why Poppy hadn't healed the bruises that purpled the girl's lip and eyelids.

"This," Albus said to the girl, who watched them both with large, dark eyes, "is Professor Remus Lupin."

Lupin smiled politely at the girl, whose eyes grew even wider. His brow creased in confusion.

"I'm afraid I can't introduce you until you tell me your name, my dear," Albus continued pleasantly. He turned back to Remus. "Our guest here, as near as we can tell, came under attack from Dementors at the front gate early this morning. That artefact you inspected was at the scene when she Mr Filch found her, among other sundry items. So far our young friend hasn't told us anything about herself, and Hogsmeade officials don't know who she might be."

"Really?" Remus thought that was not the most intelligent thing to say, but he couldn't think of anything else to say about the strange situation. His forehead creased in confusion. "Severus said that there were no Dementors, but… She's not speaking, you say? Was her mind injured in the attack?"

Albus shook his head. "Madame Pomfrey hasn't been able to find any signs of damage. I do believe, after some rest and some good food, she'll be more inclined to speak with us and then we can assist her." He looked thoughtfully at the girl for a moment before continuing. When he did, he bent forward to speak to her. She shrank back in equal measure, the discarded newspaper crinkling as she did. Albus didn't seem to notice.

"Professor Lupin is a marvelous conversationalist. I believe that you will enjoy speaking with him on any manner of topics while I attend to some school business." He made a small gesture and a chair scooted itself next to the bed. Albus nudged Remus toward it.

"Ah, headmaster," Remus said as Albus guided him toward the bedside seat. "I have something to-"

"I don't wish to impose on you, my boy. This really is quite urgent and I don't think it would behoove our guest, nor our school, to leave her unattended this morning. Perhaps she'll feel like talking. Perhaps not. I'd like her to have the chance, at the least, and Poppy is in need of a rest."

Turning from Remus, he pulled a small scrap of parchment from his pocket and used his wand to compose a message to someone. From his vantage point, Remus could see that the message was asking whomever it was for to meet in his office immediately. He sent it off to the recipient with a light pop.

"I'll be back as soon as my business permits," Albus nodded toward Remus and the girl. Then, gliding serenely in the way that only he could, the headmaster was gone from the infirmary.

Remus sat slowly and glanced at the girl. She looked like a she could be a student, no older than a third or fourth year. He wondered where she had come from. Maybe she'd been traveling through Hogsmeade and didn't know about the Dementors stationed near the village - but no, she was so young, and it had been so late at night for her to be out by herself. There was probably a less innocent explanation.

"Hello," he tried. The girl continued to stare at him. He realised that he was still holding the bundle with the lamp when he started rubbing at the bag's satin drawstring unconsciously. Her eyes darted to the bag resting on his lap and back up to his face. They sat in silence for a few minutes. She seemed to study him. Occasionally, her eyes would flicker to the side or to the floor, as though she saw something moving there, but then they would return to him. He tried to keep his expression open and friendly.

"Ahem," He tried again, shifting in his chair. "So... I'd wager you're eager to get home."

She didn't say anything. Another awkward minute passed. He wondered if she was slow.

"Not hungry?" He asked, nodding toward her bedside table and smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. "You should try the chocolate. It's good for treating Dementor attacks."

The girl ignored his words for another few seconds. Then, in a raspy voice: "You're not Lupin."

Surprised, Remus raised his eyebrows. "Yes I am." That seemed to make her angry. She glared at him.

"Why… what makes you say that?" He asked. He looked around. Poppy was still in her office. He wondered if he should fetch her. The girl's sudden hostility was disconcerting.

"You're not," she pronounced finally, baring her teeth. "I know you're not, so you can cut the shite. You and that old bloke, you must think I'm the world's biggest numpty and I'd believe all of this, but I don't. I don't believe you! I know it's a trick, all right?"

There was something familiar about the way she narrowed her eyes and the ferocity of her glare. He didn't know what it was, and it unsettled him.

"I don't know what you mean," he said slowly. "Maybe if you explain…" His voice trailed off and he watched her close her eyes and lean her head back wearily.

"I know it's a trick," she repeated in a flat voice. "I just don't know what you're trying to do." She opened her eyes again and fixed him with a stony gaze. "This is so… so elaborate. I don't get it. Why? Why do this to try to trick me? I don't have anything to give you. I don't know anything."

"Ah-" Remus started, but the girl cut him off again.

"I mean, the lengths you've gone to. This place," she gestured around them, "and Dumbledore and the newspaper and… and everything. It's really good. Really, really realistic, I guess, and I have to guess, because here's where you messed up..." She leaned toward him and lowered her voice, "I don't know anything about any of this. It's a waste of your time. I never met Dumbledore, obviously, I never met Remus Lupin-"

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but she just kept ranting.

"There's no way I would believe a single word of this shite." She thumped the newspaper on a headline: ESCAPED MURDERER SIRIUS BLACK SPOTTED IN HOGSMEADE. "So please tell me. Just tell me who you are and what you want from me, and save yourself the trouble."

Her eyes were hard, her expression guarded. She breathed quickly through her nose, the only sign that she had been on a verbal tirade.

Remus spoke slowly. "I don't… Ah, perhaps you'd like to talk to-" He turned his head toward Poppy's office once more. Seeing the door was still closed, he moved to get out of his chair so he could knock and Poppy could come out and rescue him from the strange girl and her tirade.

As soon as he turned, the girl was out of the bed and on her feet. He had no time to react as she took off running, skidding across the room on bare feet. He stood and had his wand out in time to see the infirmary doors bang open as she disappeared through them. Cursing, Remus dropped the bag on the bed and ran after her.

She was fast. She disappeared around a corner and he followed, his worn shoes pelting the flagstones. He felt panic rise. What had that girl said at the beginning of her outburst?  _You must think I'm the world's biggest numpty_. Well, he certainly felt like a numpty at the moment. Albus had asked him to mind this strange girl and he lost her after less than ten minutes!

He heard some surprised shouts up ahead and leaned into the corner. A handful of students scattered in the wake of the girl, who headed into the entrance hall and straight toward the front doors. The doors were open, as they usually were during the day, with a barrier charm cast to prevent the weather from infiltrating the castle. A fresh snowfall lay thickly blanketed over the grounds of the castle. A light but steady drizzle fell, so it was a matter of time before the pristine snow became one solid frozen block.

A couple of first-years were building a snowman right outside the doors. They both looked up, startled, as they heard the shouts and the saw the wild girl hurtling toward them. She ran faster the closer she got, ignoring the hard cold stones on her feet and dodging the surprised students in her path.

Remus raised his wand. He didn't want to try a hex in case he missed and hit a student. Instead, he cast a spell to shut and lock the doors as the girl dashed toward them. The doors began to swing shut, but not quickly enough. Twisting sideways, the girl squeezed through the rapidly vanishing opening. Nearby students were certain that the doors were going to crush her and let out horrified gasps.

With a clang, the doors snapped shut. The girl was on the other side.

"Alohamora!" Remus bit out and pointed his wand, running full tilt across the entrance hall. The doors swung open again as he reached them seconds after the girl had passed through. On the other side, the first years were staring forlornly at the remains of their demolished snowman.

Remus skidded to a stop in the snow, breathing harshly. He found the girl's footprints after a moment of searching. They led from the smashed snowman across the grounds toward the Forbidden Forest. He scanned the grounds and the edge of the wood, but didn't see the girl. The stretch of snowy ground was empty.

No, not empty. What is that? He squinted as he watched the figure in the distance, moving toward the edge of the forest. It wasn't the girl. It wasn't a person. It was on four legs and stark black against the snow. His heart jumped once, then stilled for an uncomfortably long time as he watched. His palms began to sweat.

_It can't be. He wouldn't come here. He wouldn't be that foolish._

Remus stared, forgetting to blink, until his eyes burned.

He was finally seeing the ghost he'd been expecting to see for months. Of all the spectres he'd encountered since he stepped foot back at Hogwarts, this was the one he dreaded. It was the ghost of someone who up until now hadn't been arsed to haunt him properly. Fitting, since the man had never been arsed to do most mundane things properly. The dark figure hovered there on the edge of the forest, just like it had hovered on the edge of his memory for the last decade. He held his breath for several long seconds.

The figure stopped. It turned and looked back toward the castle, bobtail erect and large ears pricked as it sniffed the air. It was a doe. A completely black doe, striking to see. Any other time he would have appreciated the sight. Right now, however, Remus felt like collapsing in the snow and laughing - or maybe crying - with relief. His heart started pumping again and he felt lightheaded. He watched the coal-black deer scan the grounds. Its head swept back and forth slowly for a few seconds. Then it turned and bounded into the forest.

He took a moment to compose himself, then continued following the bare footprints. The girl must have been addled by the attack, regardless of Poppy's diagnosis. First her paranoid ranting, then flight through the castle into the bitter cold, barefoot and wearing only a thin hospital gown. No sensible person would do that.

She'd run the whole way, dashing forward on the balls of her feet, sinking and pushing off on the soft new snow. The footprints disappeared behind a snowbank a hundred yards from the edge of the forest. They got lost in a trampled mess of fresh deer tracks - most likely tracks of the one he'd seen. He circled the snowbank, feeling a twinge of  _deja vu_. He knew he'd done this before in his werewolf form. He'd never been aware while he did it, but muscle memory took over as he stalked. He wondered, if he concentrated, would he be able to pick up her scent? Feeling slightly foolish, he tentatively sniffed the air. He only felt like sneezing from the cold.

He walked the circle again, looking at his own shoe prints next to the footprints overlaid with deer tracks. He cast a discernment spell on the footprints. They glowed faintly, but still led nowhere. No trace of where she went from there; almost like her tracks stopped, and the deer tracks started...

Remus stopped, disbelieving the evidence in front of him. No child could do that.

Well, he corrected himself, some children could. His friends had only been fifteen years old when they became animagi. In their spirited (arrogant) youth, they didn't realise how incredibly hard it would be. It was just another caper to the Marauders. Remus recalled tracks much like these, in snow or on the muddy lakeshore. Bare feet turned into huge pawprints, or hooves, or tiny, "spooky little hands", as Sirius teased Peter. Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail.

He didn't know if he could trust his instincts on this bit of information. It could be true... or it could be his lack of sleep and the ghosts of his adolescence getting him all mixed up. He had no answers, and at the moment he had to let the headmaster know what happened. He stared at the tracks for a long time before turning to leave.

He didn't know that he was being watched as he trudged back to the castle. Two sets of large, liquid eyes watched from opposite ends of the forest. One set was coal black; one was soft grey. They both watched until Remus was out of sight, then dissolved into the darkness of the forest.


	3. A Familiar Face

Inside the protection of the trees, where the snow didn't pile up, she was safe. There were no open spaces. She could dart between the shadows here, hide and watch. She was good at that.

She walked through the trees, stepping over the odd frozen puddle and fallen branches. The deeper into the forest she went, the darker it became. It was permanent twilight during the daylight hours, and impenetrable black as night fell. She kept walking, toward something... Something irresistible and important. She knew what it was, if she thought about it; but it was difficult to think of anything besides the scent in the crisp cold air and the sounds of the forest at night. Her own soft steps. Branches creaking under the weight of snow and ice. Noisy biological processes of creatures burrowed into the trees and frozen earth, resting until spring.

At last she found it: a small herd of deer bedded down in a copse of fir trees. A buck and several does with their young. The buck turned to look at her when she stumbled upon them, but didn't try to run her off. She rested next to a doe and her fawns, managing to doze off before dawn broke. When she awoke she was alone again.

That first day was clear and cold. She followed the scent of the herd to the edge of the forest. She found them feeding on a pile of crabapples and acorns in a small patch next to a strange looking wooden hut. Smoke spewed from the hut's chimney. A huge man came out of the hut and spread more mast for the deer and birds. She was wary of him, and of the large drooling hound that was always at his side. The others didn't even raise their heads from the ground when they approached. He spoke to them in gentle tones, a deep rumbling voice that reverberated in her pricked ears. He seemed to take delight in feeding them from his enormous hand. The dog watched them with indifference.

She stayed with the herd for a few days and learned their trails through the forest and where they fed on moss and bark. At night, they slept together in beds of fallen branches tucked underneath tall trees. Well, the others slept. She stayed awake, dozing for seconds or minutes until nightmares jerked her awake. They were always the same. She fell through the door into black space, over and over, skeletal hands grasping at her. The lack of sleep began to wear on her. She saw dark shapes in her peripheral vision during the day, spidery shadows that darted away when she turned her head.

The rest of the herd noticed her unrest and it made them skittish. They largely ignored her until the morning after the third sleepless night. The does all turned together, as of one mind, to drive her off. She trailed them at a distance for a while, but any time she got too close the largest one would charge her. She gave up after a while, not fancying having her skull dashed by sharp hooves.

She wandered alone after that. The other creatures of the forest avoided her. They knew she wasn't one of them. She didn't keep track of the passing time. Her mind worked differently in this form; she didn't think as much. Sights, sounds, and scents were more important than passing thoughts or memories. She forgot where she was most of the time. Places held no meaning for her other than being safe or unsafe, and her nose and ears would tell her as much. Eat, rest, hide, flee - the last being more and more frequent the longer she stayed in the forest.

Her nightmares persisted. She couldn't sleep without jolting awake in terror. The shadows were multiplying. They were growing in size, too, becoming as big as her, and much more bold. They no longer scattered when she turned her head. She was always on edge, ready to fight or flee at the snap of a branch underfoot or the flash of movement in the corner of her eye.

So when she stumbled across Sirius some days later, it only made sense to try to kill him.

Looking back, she couldn't remember making the decision to attack him. She caught the scent early one evening, and knew it immediately. It was Padfoot. She followed it until she found him. He was sitting at the treeline watching the castle, tranquility in canine form. She transformed back to herself then, hardly noticing what she was doing as she stood on two legs.

He'd turned his head to look at her as soon as she approached, ears pricked. When she transformed, he pivoted to face her. He changed as well, stretching up before her in his human body; looking for everything like Sirius.

She knew he wasn't her Sirius.

She was so exhausted, so tired of not believing of what she saw with her own eyes. Red hot rage overtook her. Her shields were in tatters and she acted on instinct. She didn't feel her hands reaching for a tree branch; didn't feel her fists wrapping around it and bringing it over her head with a scream; didn't feel herself swinging it at him with all her might.

He hexed her. It was a stunning spell, she realized after he wrestled the branch away and dragged her into the shack under the great big Whomping Willow. She found out later that the falling down heap was called the Shrieking Shack. Ruby didn't hear any shrieking, though; only her own enraged growls and screams as Sirius shoved her into the lone room upstairs and locked the door. She didn't know what words were coming out of her mouth, only that it felt so damn good to scream.

She paced the perimeter of the room and banged on the door. She even tried the window (glass cracked and opaque with grime, and haphazardly boarded over from the outside), but it wouldn't open no matter how hard she pulled. Not that she could pull very hard; the hex he'd hit her with had done a number on her left arm.

When the pain got to be too much she curled up on the floor behind a derelict wardrobe. The room darkened gradually as the little light filtering through the disgusting window faded with the sun. There was warmth coming from somewhere in the house. She let the darkness and relative comfort lull her to a fitful sleep.

When Sirius came back in the morning, she was thrashing and moaning in the grip of one of her nightmares. She woke up at the sound of his voice from the doorway. He pitied her then, seeing her confused and afraid, and that made her feel worse than anything else. She quickly occluded and schooled her face into the blank mask that  _her_  Sirius had always hated.

"Water. Drink it." He crossed the room and held a battered tin cup toward her. She sat up, took it, and drank, her suspicions overruled by her intense thirst.

He crouched several feet away, rocking on his haunches as he watched her. He held a little bundle wrapped in what looked like a handkerchief. He unwrapped it and offered it to her - bread. No, buns! Slightly stale, squashed buns! She didn't care what state the food was in; she hardly cared if it was poisoned. She'd been eating fucking moss and tree bark for more than a week, was sleep deprived, and in significant pain. She was dying for a bite of real food. She reached for it with her good hand and Sirius drew back.

"First we talk." His voice was hoarse, gravelly. "You tell me who you are and why the fuck you tried to brain me with a log."

She looked at the bundle in his dirty hand and back to his face without answering.

"How old are you? What's your name?"

She stared at him. He looked so much like her Sirius, but so different at the same time. He had deep lines in his forehead and around his eyes, lines that her Sirius didn't have, or weren't as pronounced. The Sirius she knew was, if not the picture of health, in much better physical condition than this one. Sure, he smoked and drank too much, but he was strong and good-looking. Handsome, even; his eyes sparkled and though he didn't smile often, he lit up the room when he did.

This Sirius was... ruined. He was emaciated. His pale skin stretched over his skeletal frame, all sharp angles and frail joints. His hair was matted and crusted over with dirt and blood who knows what else, and his eyes were dark pits in his skull. He didn't smile, but she got the impression that if he did it would not be pleasant.

Not that she looked much better. A week of living rough in the forest will take its toll, after all. The gown she'd worn on her escape from the castle was filthy and tattered. Her hands, feet, and face were caked with dirt. Her normally neat chin-length hair was a ratty mess and full of brambles... and something that she suspected was badger shit.

He was persistent. "You're from the school, aren't you? How did you know where to find me?"

She shook her head. He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"I know you can speak. You were shouting all kinds of nonsense earlier."

After another moment of silence, Sirius shrugged. He tore a piece of bun off and stuffed it in his mouth. Ruby watched with wide eyes as he made of show of chewing and swallowing. He made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat.

Her stomach growled angrily. Against her better judgement, she spoke. "The newspaper said that you're a murderer."

He grinned slowly at her, a rictus grin that showed grey teeth. "That's why you're here? You want the bounty for me? Or are you out for revenge?"

She shook her head. "You're not a murderer. Or if you are, you had a good reason to do it."

He stared at her. "What do you know?"

"You won't believe me."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "No?"

"Or you'll pretend that you don't." She licked her lower lip and tasted dried blood and dirt.

"Try me." He sat then, easing down to cross his long legs. Ruby closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something important, like she was trying to complete a puzzle without having all the pieces.

She sighed. "I've been thinking this over for- for a while. Since I got here, wherever  _here_ is. I don't think it's a dream, and I don't think it's a trick. It's not a vision. So either I am mad or…"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Or this is all real. That means that something went wrong with the ritual."

"Ritual?" He looked genuinely confused.

"I was trying to find Hogwarts," She said shakily. "We… I need something at Hogwarts."

Immediately, she cursed herself for her weakness. This was a bad idea. What if it was a trick after all and she was too mixed up to realize it? It had only taken a week of living rough and the offer of sweet buns to get her to spill her wretched guts. She felt a wave of shame pushing through her shields.

"I don't understand. We're at Hogwarts. Close to the castle, anyway."

"No," She shook her head. "There is no Hogwarts. Not anymore. It disappeared when Dumbledore died."

"Dumbledore's dead?" He leaned forward then, dropping the bundle on the floor. "When? How?"

She shook her head again, frustrated. "No, not here. He's alive here. But he wasn't before."

He narrowed his eyes at her, his features hard. "What is this? What are you playing at?"

"I'm trying to tell you!" She cried, surprising herself with the force of her reaction. Something about being near Sirius, even though she knew it wasn't  _her_ Sirius - his familiar face and voice, and their friendship, their easy rapport. The way she felt safe with Sirius. She felt tears pricking her eyes and swore out loud. She had no hope of Occluding from this.

"Fuck it. I don't know how, but when I did the ritual it brought me here, to Hogwarts, but everything is different. Dumbledore is alive, and there are so many students. More than I've ever seen. And you've been in Azkaban and you don't know who I am. I thought you were an imposter like everyone else, but now I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

He struggled to make sense of the jumble of her words. "Should I know who you are?"

She nodded, miserable tears spilling down her cheeks. A tall shadow loomed over the both of them. She shuddered and closed her eyes again, willing it away.

"All right," he said quietly after a moment, picking the discarded food up off the floor and holding it out to her. "Why don't you eat this and you can tell me."

She ate without tasting, and he watched her with furrowed eyebrows while she talked. while she ate she told Sirius her name and how he knew him. She told him about how she'd lived with him and Narcissa and Draco at Malfoy Manor since her father died almost two years ago. She told Sirius that he and her father had worked together for the Resistance; that Sirius had an important position in the fight against Voldemort's regime, although she only knew the bare minimum about it, and only because he trusted her skills as an Occlumens. That the ritual to find Hogwarts was years in the planning, and she volunteered after the witch who had been training for it was killed.

She didn't tell him why she volunteered or what it was she was looking for at Hogwarts.

She laid out the differences between  _there_ and  _here_  - the school, the people, the fact that there was no Lord Voldemort here, no oppressive New Ministry running wizarding Britain.

"It's… interesting," Sirius said slowly. "But none of that actually happened, did it? My memory isn't what it used to be. Twelve years in Azkaban will do things to your mind. But even I know that none of what you just said is real."

Ruby shook her head miserably. "I don't know how to explain it. I don't know why everything is different now. It's like… When I did the ritual, everything changed. Or… maybe it didn't change, but it's a different place. Maybe...I came from there to here. Maybe. I don't know."

Sirius, as she had expected, was sceptical. He watched her like she was hovering on the edge of a psychotic break. He spoke to her calmly, like one might speak to a frightened child. Or a mental patient.

He asked questions about her story, trying to make sense of it, trying to find holes. Voldemort had been defeated years ago - what about the Potters and the Boy Who Lived? Ruby's brow furrowed in confusion. She'd never heard of him.

He hated his cousins, and the Blacks had disowned him when he was sixteen. Why would he ever live with Narcissa? What of her equally vile husband?

Ruby told him about Lucius Malfoy's ambitions, and how they ended badly for him at the point of Voldemort's wand a decade ago. How Voldemort winning the war had changed things; Sirius needed to keep a prominent place in pureblood society to help the Resistance. His parents had tolerated their supposedly reformed son, especially since his brother Regulus' disappearance, but they were both dead now and Sirius was the only Black left.

Family ties were very important under the new regime. So when Narcissa had been stricken by a dark curse that left her basically an invalid, Sirius had stepped in to help care for her and raise Draco. Sirius raised an eyebrow at that. He asked about his other cousins. Bellatrix: one of the Dark Lord's favorite, always by his side, and completely deranged. Andromeda: dead, along with her family.

"Narcissa really isn't that bad most of time. I mean, yeah, when she's lucid she's horrible. She hates me because I'm a half-blood, and calls me all sorts of names and tries to hex me but most of the time she doesn't know where she is or what's going on, and it's fine as long as no one mentions muggles..." Ruby realized she was babbling. Sirius' mouth was pressed down into a thin line as he watched her. She eyed him reproachfully. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

Sirius still had that hard look on his face. Ruby couldn't tell what he was thinking. He had never looked at her like that before. It unnerved her, and she wracked her mind for something to help convince him of her story. A memory sparked.

"Wait, I thought of something," She said breathlessly. "You said that the Order used a code and that we could identify each other this way if we needed to. Your patronus - it's Padfoot."

His response was immediate and icy. "What did you say?"

"Padf-"

His hands were around her throat before she could finish the word. His eyes were wild, boring into hers.

"Who told you that?" He growled, ignoring her hands, her clawing nails as they scrabbled against his grip. "Who sent you here?"

Just as quickly as it happened, it was over. He stood over her, flushed and breathing heavily. She lay on the ground, gasping and clutching her bad arm, tears flowing freely.

"I'm - I'm sorry - I shouldn't have…" His voice trailed off. After a few seconds, he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Ruby wedged under the rickety bed frame and curled into herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and Occluded harder than she ever had before. A few minutes later her vision faded to grey and she could no longer hear anything except her own breathing, and she sank gratefully into oblivion.


	4. The Lion, the Witch, and the Hunter

**Day One**

The girl was only pretending to sleep. The lion could tell from the shift in her breathing and her careful eye movements under slitted lids. She didn't want the hunter to know she was awake. The lion knew what she looked like when she was really sleeping, having taken on the task of watching her most of the night before: rigid muscles, face tense, her whole body shaking as she fought against something in her dreams. Now, she was just acting. The hunter bought it, though. He'd been watching her for a long time in silence.

The lion tired of waiting. He rose from where he lay curled up near the door, stretched, and clawed at the floor for a few seconds before strolling over to the girl. He butted his head against hers, rubbing his cold nose against her face until she swatted at him and sat up. She opened her eyes and fixed him with a dark, glittering glare. The lion sprinted toward the hunter and received a head scratch before sprawling on his lap.

The girl -  _Dark Eyes_ , he decided - watched the hunter like she expected him to lunge at her. She was on the floor in front of the bed, and he sat against the wall near the door, his legs crossed. The lion draped himself across the bony lap and purred. It was a long moment before either of them spoke.

"I'm sorry." The hunter sounded tired. "I… I shouldn't have done that. I'm not so good with knowing how to react anymore. I was in prison for so long. It made me… Well, you saw it." The hunter scratched behind the lion's ear. He purred louder.

"I uh, brought you some blankets and a jug of water," he continued. "And a bucket. For... well. You'll figure it out."

Dark Eyes stared at him, not blinking, not making a sound. She seemed to be holding her breath.

"You could sleep on the bed, you know. Instead of under it. I know it's a bit wonky, but it's got to be better than the floor."

Still silent.

The hunter spoke again. "Are… are you all right?"

"I want to leave." Her voice had an edge. The lion swished his tail at the sound. He didn't understand what people said most of the time, but he could tell when an interaction was going well. This one was not going well. His ears flicked forward and he watched the exchange with half-closed eyes.

"That's not a good idea."

"I won't tell anyone about you. I'll go back to the forest."

He didn't answer. He stroked the lion.

"Please." Her voice made the lion swish harder. "Please let me go."

The hunter sighed. "No."

The lion did not like the tension. He leapt from the lap and began to groom himself to calm the prickling to his skin. The hunter tried to ask her something, but Dark Eyes stopped responding. She turned away from them and stared at the wall.

The lion couldn't tell what it was about her that made the hunter so frustrated. It was something about her face, her posture, the way she wouldn't look at him... It disturbed the hunter, and he got angry. He stormed out after a few minutes and the lion slipped out behind him. He watched, tail swishing, as the hunter locked the door.

"Bloody nutter," he growled as he threw the bolt.

The lion thought that was a bit rich. The man constantly complained about having been locked up unjustly. If he was the one held in the room against his will, he would have acted worse. He would have used his teeth on his jailer instead of the silent treatment.

**Day Two**

The next time that the hunter opened the door, the lion was surprised to see the dark-eyed girl was gone. In her place there was a deer, standing in the shadows of the corner of the room. A twitch of his nose, a quick sniff of the air, explained it. So she was another like the hunter, like that Rat. For a moment, the lion considered that this was an unusual coincidence. He'd gone his whole life without ever meeting a witch or wizard who could change forms on a whim, and then he met three in a matter of months. It made him wonder at the nature of fate and destiny, and the possibility of there being no such thing as free will.

His pondering was interrupted by loud curses as the hunter stepped in a pile of droppings just inside the doorway. He glared at Dark Eyes, shaking shit off his shoe. The lion doubted that the pile's placement had been accidental.

The hunter pushed the bucket he was carrying toward the girl, aggravated. "I brought you a fresh bucket, but I don't suppose you'll be needing it."

The deer limped toward the far corner of the room as they made their way inside. Her eyes were always on the hunter.

"You're hurt," The hunter said, frowning.

She didn't respond. The hunter set down the bucket and the package of food - well away from the droppings near the door - and moved toward her. She backed up a pace. He held up his hands.

"I'm not going to - Let me have a look. Maybe I can help."

She hesitated, then stepped forward again.

"I think this will work better if you shift back." He waited, his hands still in the air.

In an instant, the deer transformed into Dark Eyes' lithe form. She looked uncertain as the hunter as he moved toward her. He reached out, ignoring her wide eyes and her shrinking from him, and grasped her shoulder firmly.

"It's this one, right?"

She winced, and then nodded. The lion could see the cloud of magic leave his hand and swirl around the girl's shoulder and arm before it settled into the her. He'd been able to see magic since he was a cub. It was always present around the magical people, always showing up in their everyday movements. A quick shimmer, like sunlight reflecting, when a witch had a spark of inspiration. The soft bloom in the aura of a wizard who laid eyes on the person he loved. He could tell how powerful a given witch or wizard was just by watching them go about their lives.

The hunter's magic was intense and overwhelming. It stirred around him constantly. That's what had attracted the lion to him in the first place. Even when he'd looked for everything like an ordinary dog, it came off of him in waves that the lion could ignore. The hunter was a very powerful wizard, even if he did have trouble controlling the powers - only since prison, he said. And he was loads better with his wand, he said.

It took him a few clumsy attempts to heal her, but the lion could tell the dark-eyed girl felt some relief. She relaxed, stretching her arm and shaking her hand out.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

The hunter stepped back and looked her up and down. The lion wound around his legs, purring, pleased that the humans were behaving well with one another.

"Any other injuries you want to tell me about?"

She shook her head. "It was just my arm. And it was your fault."

"My fault?" He barked a derisive laugh, showing grey teeth. "Tell me how it was my fault that you tried to brain me with a tree branch. You're lucky you didn't lose your arm all together, you silly cow!"

She glared at him. His smile faded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I brought you some food."

The lion twitched his nose in the direction of the package. More bread, scrounged from the bins behind the village bakery. The lion thought this type of scavenging was beneath them. The hunter could have safely gone into the castle in his canine form to beg for scraps from the kitchen staff. When the lion told him that the castle familiars did that all the time, he'd outright refused on principle. The lion thought that was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard: refusing to be fed decent food in favor of sniffing through rubbish bins for day-old bread. He supposed that 'having principles' was one of the chief differences between their species.

Dark Eyes didn't acknowledge the food. "As lovely as this has been, I want to leave now." Her voice had an edge, the one that made the lion's skin prickle.

The hunter crossed his arms. "No. Sorry."

"Please."

"No. You can't leave, so stop asking."

"No one's looking for me, and I'm not going to tell anyone about you. I promise," she begged. "Sirius... please."

He shook his head. She stared at his implacable expression for several seconds, then shifted back into her deer form and stepped backward into the far corner. She stood stock still and watched him. He sighed and tried to talk to her, but that went about as well as the last time. He ended up storming out again in frustration.

Humans took offense at the strangest things. Another difference between their species.

He held the door open for the lion, waiting expectantly for him to follow. The lion didn't follow. He sat near Dark Eyes and looked at the hunter, tail twitching.

Slamming the door was a little over the top.

**Day Three**

The lion could tell that the girl's magic was weakening with her health. He could see it fading. She was growing despondent. She didn't eat or drink. The bread went stale on the floor. When she wasn't sleeping fitfully, she sat staring at the wall in silence, clutching her arms to herself. Sometimes she hunched with her eyes squeezed shut as though to block out some unpleasant sight.

It was boring. The lion wanted her to do something interesting. He nudged her, and she ignored him. He mouthed her hand in demand, nipping and drooling until she lifted it to stroke him weakly.

After a while, perhaps out of restlessness, she shifted back into a deer and paced the length of the room. It was during the pacing that she discovered she could speak with him. She was surprised by his intellect, just like the hunter had been at first. He didn't take it personally. He was used to being underestimated.

He told her things about the school, the Rat, and the hunter. She shared her misery, her fears, and her homesickness. She told him about shadows that stalked her and the nightmares. She told him a strange story of a lamp that found hidden things and a powerful wand concealed somewhere in the castle.

When she was too tired to continue, she wrapped herself in a dusty blanket and curled up under the bed frame to sleep.

The hunter came back to restock the room. He didn't wake the girl, and the lion slipped out with him when he left. They headed onto the castle grounds to watch and plot together. Nothing was amiss when they parted. The lion headed for the castle to meet his Clever Witch and check on the Rat situation. As usual, the hunter stalked the edge of the forest and watched the children play their ridiculous flying games. He said he had to keep an eye on someone important to him.

They were both protecting people they loved, and they both took that very seriously. That was why it felt so awful when things went wrong.

**Day Four**

The Rat was gone.

The lion spent a night in disgrace in the dormitory, unjustly accused of dispatching the horrible creature. Ironic. He would have loved to take credit for it.

The children shouted at one another and his Clever Witch cried herself to sleep. He couldn't wait to escape to the relative peace of the shack, but his relief was short-lived. When the hunter found out that the Rat was gone, he was furious. He stomped around the sitting room and kicked furniture and shouted curses. His rampaging magic made the settee upholstery explode, sending chunks of foam and the dust of the ages flying around the room.

The lion thought that as long as the hunter was occupied by his fury, he might as well do something productive. He left the shack and stalked the castle corridors, chasing shadows, searching for the little beast. He caught three mice and a sizeable cockroach that night, but the Rat was nowhere to be found.

**Day Five**

The hunter didn't calm down for a long time. He'd left during the night and came back late the next day, and the lion was waiting at the bedroom door for him. The hunter brought extra nice food by way of apology for losing his temper. Improbably, there were kippers and crumpets and sausage rolls that weren't even that stale. He and the hunter had a pleasant meal as Dark Eyes wrapped herself in a blanket and watched them with a blank stare. The hunter offered her some of the nosh, and she looked away. He sighed.

"I have a proposition for you, but it won't happen if you starve to death. Eat something." He shoved a sausage roll at her and she clutched it, glaring. The hunter waited until he was sure she wasn't going to chuck it at him, then continued. "I have some questions for you."

The lion's belly was pleasantly full of smoked fish. He licked his paws and cleaned his whiskers while the hunter settled on the floor near the girl. The man swung his long legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankle.

He looked at her and tipped his head in the direction of the lion. "He told me some things. About what you two talked about."

Dark Eyes didn't look at him. She picked apart the sausage roll, and the lion watched with interest as crumbs fell to the floor. "I want to leave."

The hunter paused. "Listen, I have to-"

She shook her head violently and bared her teeth, startling the lion. "Let me leave!"

He shook his head. "No."

"Why not? Why are you keeping me here, Sirius? Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice rose to a sudden, pleading cry. Her fist clenched, the sausage roll forgotten and crumbled on the filthy floor.

"Because you'll die out there!" The hunter shouted back at her, leaning forward and making the girl shrink back in surprise. The lion froze, one paw in the air, watching each of them carefully.

"No I won't," she stammered. "I'll be fine in my other form. That's why you - Sirius, he taught me. So I would survive."

He raised his eyebrows. "I taught you how to be an animagus?"

She nodded.

"Why... Why would I do that?"

"I already said, survival."

The hunter didn't seem to know what she meant by that. He studied her for a moment, sized her up like she was interesting but unknown prey. The mood calmed enough for the lion to resume his grooming.

After a long moment, he spoke. "Tell me about the ritual. The one you say you did to find Hogwarts."

"Why?" She asked.

He didn't answer. He leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes like he was settling in for a long wait.

Dark Eyes hesitated for a moment, then murmured the beginning of an incantation. The lion watched her magic begin an anemic swirl around her head in a circle. It was a pale echo of the ritual, as though it couldn't resist flexing at the memory. It settled down again as she went on. She described the lamp to find lost things; the runes; the star charts.

The hunter nodded when she told him about the day and night of fasting and about inscribing a circle in the frozen earth to set her intentions and protect herself. When she told him about the blood spell to seal the lamp to her will, his jaw tightened.

"Dark magic," he said suddenly. "That's a powerful dark spell. No wonder it went wrong." Even the lion recognised his expression as bare disgust. Dark Eyes looked at the floor, her face pale.

"You're too young to use those spells," the hunter said, his voice hard. "Far too young to control such powerful dark magic. It would never have worked the way you wanted. Hell, I'm surprised you haven't been flattened by the exchange already. That's what I mean when I said you'll die out there." He looked at her sharply. "You're having nightmares?"

She looked startled, then nodded.

"The cat said you're seeing things, too?"

She hesitated and looked up at him again, her eyes wide. "Yes."

"That's the exchange. You used dark magic and now it's taking a price. It's only going to get worse."

"What do you mean?" She whispered.

The hunter rubbed a hand over his face. "My cousins - the ones you say you know - they use dark magic. Oh, I've done my share. I'm a Black, we're taught dark spells from the cradle. But Bellatrix - she reveled in it. It was her whole life. I saw her do some things that would turn your stomach." He stared into the distance for a moment.

"The exchange doesn't care who you are or why you used the magic. It only cares about balance. Making things equal. The more you use it, the higher the price. Bella went mad. Her sanity was the price the exchange commanded from her."

Dark Eyes blinked. "What's going to happen to me? Am I going to go mad?"

The hunter shook his head. "I don't know. How did you even learn the blood spell? You're just a kid, how would you-"

"I'm thirteen," she interrupted in a chilly voice. "I'm old enough. I traded a goblin for it."

"What kind of trade?" His eyes narrowed.

She shrugged. "Some teeth."

He stared at her.

"Not my teeth," she clarified. "Someone… else's."

"Well," he said after another long silence. "Do you know what happened to the lantern? What did you call it? The lantern of-"

"The Lamp of Eos? Yeah, it's at the castle. Lupin had it."

"Lupin?" Sirius sat up and looked at her with a fevered glint in his eye. "You saw him?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly chagrined that she hadn't thought of mentioning that before. "He said he's a professor. He had the lamp with him before I took off. You two were friends, weren't you? You - er, Sirius - told me some stories about being friends at school. You called him Moony."

He went pale. "Of course you'd know that."

"Why'd you want to know about the lamp?"

He didn't seem to be answering her as he spoke. He was distracted, thinking out loud. "You could try a cleansing ritual to soften the effects of the exchange, but you need the original artefact... If you're not lying about everything - which, what the hell, let's say you're not... Or you could try a sacrifice to balance the exchange... You say Moony has it?"

"Wait. You think the lamp could... Fix it? I could stop seeing things? Stop the nightmares?" She sat a bit straighter, spoke a bit louder.

He looked thoughtful. "No. You probably can't, not by yourself."

Her face fell.

"But…  _We_. We could try. I know some spells that might work. We'll need to get the lamp. I could help you… but it's a risk. I'm willing to do it, if you do something for me." He leaned over to gaze at her, eye to eye. "Do you want my help?"

She nodded, no hesitation. The lion thought she looked - not happy - but not unhappy for the first time since he'd met her. Her black eyes gleamed in the half-light of the room.

"All right," The hunter said and set his jaw. "Like I said, I need you to do something for me first, before we try to get the lamp. Are you willing to hear my proposition?"

She nodded again, eager.

"All right. Here's what I need you to do."

**Day Six**

"This is a bad idea," Dark Eyes said for what was probably the tenth time. "We'll get caught."

They'd been arguing for what seemed to be a long time as they prepared to carry out the plan the hunter had cooked up. The lion had no sense of time inside the shack other than his own hunger or fatigue. The light outside had begun to fade, and he was hungry again. That meant it was almost time for him to meet his Clever Witch for a saucer of milk and a cuddle, and he  _really_  wanted a saucer of milk and a cuddle.

He swished his tail, bored, restless, wanting the humans to stop bickering. He considered scratching one of them to show his displeasure.

"Only if you do something suspicious." The hunter was resting on the arm of the shredded settee with his back to the girl as she toweled off.

She'd just finished washing up, if one could consider splashing with water and not even using a tongue or a flannel or  _anything_  to be 'washing up'. The shack's tiny kitchen had a pump that squeaked and screeched and expelled frigid, rust-tinged water into a large bowl. She had a small worn blanket to use for a towel, and was shivering as she stood in the tiny kitchen and dripped.

"Oh, okay then. I j-just won't l-look or act s-suspicious as I s-sneak around," She stuttered through her shivers. She took a sharp breath. "This is a d-dumb p-plan. They've already s-seen me. They'll n-notice me right away." She scrubbed at her wet, still-dirty hair and grimaced.

"No one will be looking at you. You look like any other student, and everyone will be at dinner anyway. All you have to do is not draw attention to yourself."

Her hands trembled and she was winded from the exertion of simply washing herself. The lion had watched the hunter coax a few bites of food into her the night before and again in the morning, pointing out that if she was weak from hunger she wouldn't be able to complete her task. The lion wondered how long it had been since she'd eaten regular meals. He wondered how long she'd gone without good sleep. He wondered how people could survive on only eight hours of sleep per night at all, let alone go without for days. He needed at least twice that amount of sleep every day or he would become grumpy and want to treat everyone he met like a scratching post.

Dark Eyes huffed and pulled on the wrinkled robe that the lion had procured. It was one of the Clever Witch's school robes. It had become somewhat soiled and rumpled as the lion dragged it through the castle and over the grounds. It was too short for Dark Eyes, but it was better than her filthy rags, and she did indeed look like a student when she wore it. A damp, frail, sallow-faced student. She stepped into shoes that she complained were both too big and mismatched. The lion couldn't tell a difference. They were black shoes, like all the children wore in the castle. Besides, he wasn't a bloody cobbler. She was lucky she got anything.

"All right," she sighed. "I'm dressed."

The hunter turned and gave her an appraising look. "You've still got some… Here."

He got up crossed into the kitchen. He went to the pump, filling the bowl with a bit of the freezing water and dipped the edge of the towel into it. He grasped her chin with his free hand and held her still as he scrubbed the side of her face. She squirmed and hissed at him.

"Ow! Stop it!" She pulled out of his grip and glared at him. "I'm clean enough!"

The hunter crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. He looked amused. "You look like you've been rolling in dirt. I suppose if anyone asks, you could tell them you've been working in the greenhouse."

The lion jumped up on the kitchen bench and bumped the girl with his head to hurry her along. She patted him and glared even harder at the hunter.

"You're one to talk. You look loads worse than me, you know."

"No one will see me, though. They'll just see Padfoot, and dogs are supposed to be dirty," he grinned. "Besides, my filthiness adds to my mystique as an outlaw."

" _Mis-stink_?"

"Mystique," he repeated. "It means 'aura of mystery'."

Dark Eyes scratched under the lion's chin and smirked, then wrinkled her nose. "I like mis-stink better. You really do stink. What even is that smell?"

"Dead squirrel, if I recall correctly. It's hard to remember," he grinned at her. "Whenever I come across a dead animal I like to have a good roll in it, get good and covered in the stench. Confuses the Dementors - throws them off the scent. And the canine part of me really enjoys it too."

She stared at him, her mouth open. "That is… foul."

The hunter reached into the inside pocket of his robe and pulled out the crumpled bit of parchment that the lion had brought to him a couple of days ago. He smoothed it with one hand before holding it out to Dark Eyes. When her fingers grasped it, he pulled back a bit and waited until she looked at him quizzically.

"Don't. Lose. It."

She took the scrap and tucked it inside her own pocket. He reached out and straightened the collar of her robes, then tried to brush some dust off her shoulder. The lion noticed her tense at his touch. If the hunter noticed too, he didn't mention it.

"Remember the plan?" At her nod, he prompted her. "Tell me. You should have memorised it by now."

She rolled her eyes but complied. "Follow you and wait for your signal."

"And then?"

"Use the passwords to get into the dorm. Find the rat, grab the rat, get out."

"And?"

She gritted her teeth. "Don't fuck up."

"Right." He turned and headed for the door, beckoning Dark Eyes and the lion to follow. At a few steps from the door, he suddenly turned.

"You're not going to start seeing those shadow-things and lose it on me, are you kid? I need you to stay in one piece until this is done."

She had a stormy expression on her face, one he'd seen his Clever Witch give the Rat's boy on more than one occasion when they fought. The hunter noticed.

"I need to know before we go in there. Are you sure you can do this? Are you up to it?" He gazed down at her, searching her face.

"I have to be up to it, don't I," she ground out. "If I want your help?"

"Yes," he nodded. "So don't cock it up."

He turned and opened the door to the tunnel. Together, the three of them headed for the castle.


	5. A Stupid Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We’ve had three different narrators so far. Who’s your favorite? Who's POV would you like to see?
> 
> Harry and crew will soon make an appearance. This is a longer chapter that shows a bit of Ruby’s motivation and some backstory. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.

It was a stupid plan. Ruby tried to warn him, but Sirius was crazed in his determination. If she'd had time to think about it, to talk to him; if she hadn't been so very exhausted and unbalanced by the exchange she wouldn't have agreed to it.

The truth was that she was scared. Sirius was the only person she found that she could even sort of rely on, so she did it. Even though it was a very stupid plan.

She wasn't surprised when it all blew up.

They'd gotten into the castle via a tunnel that led down an incline toward the kitchens. It was a service entrance that had apparently been forgotten for a long time, judging from the broken flagstones and cobwebs and puddles of fetid water. There were no students or staff around the dim, cramped corridor.

Sirius told her to follow the cat to the dormitory on the 7th floor. He'd made her repeat 'the plan', which wasn't really a plan as much as it was a slightly insulting list of commands. He reminded her again to not lose the damned list.

"Wait," Ruby whispered as he made to push her down the shadowy corridor toward the cat's retreating form. "You aren't coming?"

"No, I'm not coming. I'm a bloody big grim, aren't I? I hardly think that it would be smart to be seen with me in tow. It would attract all sorts of attention."

"But wait," she said again, a little louder, as he shoved her. "Where will you be?"

"I'll follow some distance behind," he grunted. "I'll keep an eye out."

She clung to the edges of the wall as he inched her forward. "What if I get caught? What should I do?"

"Don't get caught," he hissed. With a final shove, she was stumbling after the great ugly ginger cat.

Ruby was beginning to hate this version of Sirius.

She followed the cat, peering cautiously as she turned down a new corridor on the ground floor, holding her breath. She watched and waited for passing students to stare at her or shout an alarm. There weren't any about; she supposed they were all at dinner, like Sirius said.

Her senses were on high alert. Ruby listened carefully and stared into shadowed corners. She smelled the aroma of rich food wafting from the kitchens. Beef roast and something sweet - turnips, perhaps. It had been several days since she'd eaten more than a few mouthfuls of whatever stodgy things Sirius brought her, and she was surprised that she didn't feel the slightest bit hungry.

She didn't notice hunger now. She didn't notice the shadows flickering at the edges of her vision. She didn't notice how tired she was, how her feet dragged. She was singularly focused on the possibility of lessening the effects of the exchange. It was the only thing driving her; she could block out her fear and exhaustion. She could block out the doubt and grief. She could - she _would_ \- block out everything except her goal to vanquish the creeping shadows. She would do whatever she needed to do, just as she'd been taught.

Ruby was fairly certain now that everything she was experiencing was real. If this place and these people were an illusion, it was indistinguishable from reality. There was no point in fighting it. She figured the best thing she could do was to find a way make it as tolerable as possible.

In another world, one in which Ruby never stumbled across him in the forest, Sirius was just mad and desperate enough to try to find the traitorous rat by himself. With a knife. In the dead of the night and a dorm full of sleeping children. As if that would have ever worked to accomplish anything other than terrifying the whole school.

The utter knob.

In yet another world, the ginger cat knew of a shortcut through the labyrinthine underground corridors that led them straight to a moving staircase. Ruby followed him as he strutted, head held high and regal, like he was a much larger animal, up the staircases to the tower dorm. She smiled at the figure he cut; she liked the cat, and it felt good to have something to smile about after so long.

The plan still wouldn't have worked, but it would have been far less dramatic than the alternatives. This wasn't either of those worlds.

Ruby was following the cat through ground floor corridors when she was brought to a halt by a familiar voice.

"...write a letter to the Governors and see this detention nonsense sorted out. It was only a prank, for Merlin's sake. If anyone deserves detention…"

Ruby pressed herself against the clammy stone of an undulating corridor, as far from a torch as possible. She held her breath and looked wildly behind her for Padfoot. She couldn't see him anywhere. The voice drew closer, echoing against the walls.

"...Potter unleashed that blasted spell on stands full of spectators! If McGonagall wasn't so biased toward the sod…"

The speaker was passing her now, and she caught a glimpse of his pale pointed face and white-blond hair. It was Draco, flanked on either side by hulking figures. She recognized them as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two pureblood morons from school. Draco was still speaking, his haughty voice carrying his complaints down the corridor. Ruby was familiar with that tone: whiny, entitled, and insufferably posh. It was a tone she gave him egregious shit for on a regular basis. It was a tone that she would have now given anything to hear more of, if it meant Draco was nearby.

They didn't see her. Her heart was in her throat as she stared at his retreating back. Draco. Her closest friend, her pseudo-sibling and fellow victim of Sirirus' attempts at parenting.

The emotion hit her like a wave, threatening to knock her off her feet with its power. She missed him so much. She missed all of them: Sirius, and even Narcissa in her softer moments. She missed Prue, their cook. Hell, she missed all the Manor staff except maybe Graves the butler (who was kind of a dick).

She was so alone here.

Ruby tried, unsuccessfully, to Occlude. When that didn't work, she tried to tell herself that she was okay being alone. After all, she had been on her own, more or less, since her mum died. She'd gone away to school when she was six and usually only saw her father during summer holidays. Housemasters and prefects were poor substitutes for a family, and she got used to not having one.

But then Sirius became her guardian. He wouldn't let Ruby or Draco board at school. He said that the New Ministry school was no better than a prison - and he wasn't wrong. She'd slowly grown accustomed to being a Day Student and flooing home every evening. She'd grown comfortable with having her own room with her own things. Now she had more things than fit in a trunk or a bedside cupboard, and she didn't have to keep it all meticulously tidy at all times in case of inspection.

Most surprising was how easy it had been to get used to the routine of a family: breakfast together; Prue asking her what she wanted for tea; Sirius offering to help her with her homework; the occasional squabbles with Draco over dumb stuff, and the bollockings from Sirius when she got bad school reports. She'd gotten used to knowing there was always someone there to talk to. She'd gotten used to the feeling of belonging. She hated herself now for coming to rely on it.

She knew that this Draco wasn't _her_ Draco. He likely didn't even know who Ruby was - no one yet seemed to know who she was in this place. She was so lonely, though, and she wanted to be closer, to hear him speak. Maybe she could get some insight into who he was here, without the family they'd created. Maybe it would soothe the ache in her chest just a bit. It would only take a few minutes.

The cat watched with luminous eyes as she followed the trio, creeping down the corridor and turning at a set of narrow steps. She followed them down, further into dim, dank stone passages. She caught glimpses of the blond head, glowing under the torchlight.

The passage opened up into another, wider corridor that was still damp and chilly, but better lit. She squinted in the greenish light and watched the trio saunter further down. Then she heard the growl.

She spun on her heel and saw Padfoot step out of the shadows, transforming into Sirius in the space of an blink.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" It was a harsh, half-growled whisper. "Where are you going? The tower is that way," he gestured in the other direction.

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She felt like she might cry. She looked back at where Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had been a moment ago. They were gone. She turned back to Sirius. He was furious.

"Come on!" He stepped toward her and made to grab her arm, but she backed away.

He snarled at her. "Are you cracking up right now? If you can't handle this, I will leave you here and do it myself."

Ruby didn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, an ancient-looking wood door only steps away from them swung open. Warm light spilled into the corridor, and they both turned to look. A tall, slender man wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches was speaking over his shoulder as he stepped out into the hall, his hand resting on the door. Ruby recognized him - Remus Lupin. Sirius made a low growling noise in his throat.

Ruby was about to do as he'd ordered her - about to bolt down the corridor away from the open door - when she heard something, once again, that made her feet forget how to move. A voice she never imagined she would hear again.

"...variation shouldn't have as many side effects as the last batch. If you experience any pain after ingesting it, you will tell me. I will send for you when it's done." A deep, silky, disdainful voice. Unmistakable.

Remus nodded to the voice in the doorway. "Of course, Severus. Thank you again. I really do appreciate it."

Sirius had her by the arm now, yanking viciously. She was frozen. It felt like her feet were under a sticking charm. He swore under his breath and transformed back into Padfoot just as Remus turned.

Ruby stared at Remus, and he stared back. For a moment he looked startled. His eyes, strangely yellow in the light, fixed on something behind her. They flashed for an instant, and his expression reminded Ruby of the look a predator got when it spotted its prey. He'd seen Padfoot. Remus looked back at her and his expression became guarded.

"Hello again," Remus said, his voice level, and took a step toward her. He held up his hands in front of himself, as if offering them to show he didn't have a weapon or a wand. "Can we talk for a moment? I'm not going to hurt you."

"What is it, Lupin?" The voice asked from inside the room. Footsteps.

Ruby's father stepped out of the doorway. He looked as he had before he died. All she knew was a loud rush in her ears and a black mist swirling around the edges of her vision.

"No," she whispered, and started to shake. "No no no."

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "No? You don't want to talk?" He took another slow step toward her. "We can help you. Are you hurt? Are you hungry? You can have something to eat. A bath. A bed."

Ruby didn't hear him. She was staring at her father.

For months after her father's death, Ruby would have dreams about him. In her dreams, she would be at their old house - the one they had before mum died, where all three of them lived together. She would open the front door and everything was just like she remembered. All the furniture was the same as it was when she was small, and the wallpaper, and the outdated lino in the kitchen.

Her father would be there, doing something mundane like cooking or reading or writing at the small secretary in the parlor. Ruby was always surprised, and she would say _I thought you were dead? What are you doing here? Where have you been?_ He would never answer her. He just gave her the look he always had when he thought she was being especially thick. When she woke up she would feel the grief and anger of his death all over again. Eventually she had the dreams less frequently, and then they stopped altogether. She hadn't dreamed of her father in over a year.

This was not a dream.

He looked her over with his sharp black eyes. He spoke to Remus. "It's her, isn't it? I recognize her from the infirmary."

Remus nodded, his hands still offered out, palms up. Showing he wasn't a threat.

Her father wasn't as cautious. He pushed past Remus, ignoring his protest, sweeping his way over the cold flagstone to stand in front of her and glare down.

"What is your name, child?" He asked sternly, and Ruby didn't think she had ever felt so much pain in her life. No injury, no sadistic school punishment, no loss ever felt as terrible. He didn't know her. Her own father didn't know her.

Her magic must have thought that the stabbing pain through her entire being meant she was about to die, because it chose that moment to erupt.

The flickering torches along the corridor walls on either side roared into huge flames that licked at their heads. Ruby dropped at the sudden eruption and brought her arms up to cover her head. The open door, one of several set into arched frames on each side of the hallway, shuddered and splintered. It exploded violently, debris bursting to the opposite wall and bouncing back to the floor behind Remus. He darted out of the way as jagged chunks of wood rained around him. The other doors up and down the hallway did the same, exploding outward in sequence as if dynamite detonated behind them.

Ruby had her eyes squeezed shut, so she didn't see when her father grasped her by her robe collar and hauled her to her feet. She cracked her eyes open and saw the ebony wand pointed at her forehead. She stared into his eyes - cold black tunnels, so familiar yet strange - as chaos whirled around them.

"Stop this. Now." His voice was hard, and she could do nothing but obey. It was reflexive, the result of a lifetime of conditioning. At his command, she reigned in the magic by forcing her shields up. The flames lowered. The corridor fell eerily silent. She felt strangely numb.

Then there was a growl and a bark, and her father yelled in pain as Padfoot knocked him to the ground, jaw clamped on his wand arm. Ruby dropped again and scrambled backward on her hands and knees, watching without feeling anything.

Remus was suddenly between the two struggling figures, pushing Padfoot aside and covering her father with his own body.

"No! No more!" He stared the dog down, eyes flashing. A final growl, and Padfoot retreated. He trotted to Ruby and took the edge of her sleeve in his mouth, tugging and pulling her away. She let him drag her a short distance across the cold flagstone as she struggled to get to her feet. She didn't get far before Remus was in front of her again, this time with his wand in his hand. So much for not being threatening.

He trained the wand on Padfoot, who released Ruby's robe and stared up at the man, hackles raised, nose twitching. Ruby wondered if Remus would try to capture him. She knew that Sirius would not go without a fight, and it was likely that one of them would end up hurt or dead.

After a tense moment, Remus lowered his wand. He made a muted gesture for the dog to leave. Padfoot didn't hesitate, not even looking at Ruby as he retreated into the shadows. Remus watched him disappear over Ruby's shoulder before glancing back to her. He looked at her for long moment.

He flicked his wand at her. "Stupefy," he said, and the world went dark.

In another world, Ruby was settling down at the kitchen table with her homework and a glass of pumpkin juice. Draco was across the table writing his alchemy essay. Prue winked at her as she plopped down bowls of apple crumble with cream for each of them.

She would have been at home in that world. She would have felt the warmth of the fire from the hearth and smelled the tart apples and cinnamon as she listened to Draco's quill scratch over parchment. She would not have been safe - never safe. But she would have been comfortable.

This was not that world.

Ruby's head throbbed. It was dark. She tried to look around, but her eyes wouldn't focus and she saw only vague shapes. Her mind was fuzzy. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. Her hands were bound behind her back and she was sitting, leaning against a cold wall.

She was aware that someone was speaking. There were two voices in conversation. Back and forth. Asking and answering; an inquisition. Her brain felt liquid and she couldn't focus on what the voices were saying, but she was familiar with the format and tone. She'd experienced it often enough: at home, at school, in secret rooms that smelled of death...

She couldn't tell if this was real or a dream. The voices rose and fell: one urgent and hurried, one soft and level. The rhythm of the questioning continued, lulling her into her own thoughts, her own memories. Little by little, as she listened, she recognized the sounds and the diction and she could understand the words.

"Are you an animagus?" The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Yes." A soft, acquiescing reply.

"And you take the form of a black doe?"

"Yes."

Ruby was startled to realize that it was her voice giving the answers. She'd had no idea she was speaking. She panicked. Why wasn't this under her control? She must be under a spell. Or more likely, a potion.

"That dog with you in the dungeons. What do you know about it?"

She wanted to resist, but the words came out faster than she could think. "His name is Padfoot. He's Sirius Black's animagus."

"How do you know Sirius Black?" The voice was urgent, closer and faster. The memory flooded her mind, unbidden.

_Sirius is laying on the couch in his study, stocking feet up on the arm, smoking and reading the post. He holds up a piece of parchment and Ruby can tell, even from across the room, that it is a letter from school._

_"You've Saturday detention," he says. "Again. Says you bunked off class this morning. Which class was it?"_

_Ruby is annoyed by the reprimand, annoyed by the fact that her time isn't her own in the first place. "Household Charms. It's rubbish."_

_"Hm," Sirius muses. "What did you do instead?"_

_She can't tell him that. "What does it matter?"_

_"Answer the question."_

_"Fine. Nothing, really. I just hung about."_

_"Who with? Where?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"You don't know," he repeats and gives her a wry smile. "You're not doing yourself any favors, poppet. This is the second time in a month. If you get another detention they'll cane you. I won't be able to stop them."_

_She shrugs. He sighs and sits up, stubbing the cigarette out in a crystal dish on the side table._

_"Why do you do this, Ruby?" His face is haggard, lined from long hours at work and aggravation with her. "What's worth the trouble?"_

_She can't tell him that either. For one thing, she has done everything she can to forget what happened three weeks ago and if tried to talk about it now, she would probably break down. For another, he would definitely put an end to her plans. He already told her it's too dangerous for her to be involved in the Resistance, and this would make him go mental._

_They get nowhere. Sirius is frustrated and angry when she Occludes, and she gets angry when he tries to make her feel guilty for not telling him what he wants to know. She's frustrated too. She wants to tell him, but she can't. It's for his own good._

Ruby blinked, suddenly back with the other voice. "He's my guardian." Such a simple answer compared to what was swirling in her head a moment ago.

A brief silence. Then: "What do you mean, he's your guardian? How is that possible? He's been in prison for twelve years."

"Not this Sirius. The other Sirius, where I am from. He's not in prison. Never has been."

Another silence. "What you're saying doesn't make any sense."

That wasn't a question, and she had nothing to say to that. As the silence stretched on, she tried to clear her mind and observe her surroundings. Fuzzy images came to her. A dimly lit windowless room, a single chair, a tall man with sandy hair.

"What is Sirius Black doing at Hogwarts?" Another question.

She didn't have to think. It felt as if she was reading from a script. The words appeared in her mind, and fraction of a second later she was speaking them. "He's here to capture Peter Pettigrew and clear his name."

There was a loud noise. Ruby got the image of a chair flying across the room, clattering against a wall.

"This is absurd. Peter is dead. Sirius killed him!"

That wasn't a question. Ruby waited, concentrating on the images and the sounds. Willing the fog to clear.

"What did Sirius tell you about why he is here?" The voice asked. "Tell me everything he told you, exactly as he said it."

She did. "Sirius was framed for the betraying the Order and for murder by Peter Pettigrew in 1981. He's been imprisoned in Azkaban since then. He saw a photo of Wormtail in the newspaper and discovered he was alive and living with a family called Weasley. They have children at Hogwarts. He escaped Azkaban in his animagus form by swimming across the North Sea. He was picked up by a fishing boat and taken to Amsterdam, then Calais, then Dover. He came to Hogsmeade in September. He is going to find Pettigrew and bring him to justice. Although he might kill him instead. He hasn't decided yet."

"Is that why you had this?" The crumpled list of passwords was thrust at her. This time, she was able to look and focus, maybe because it was important to answering the question. She focused on the list, then on the hand holding it. The long arm was clad in tweed. She followed the arm up to the face again, and this time she recognized Remus. She could see him clearly now, the hazel eyes and scars on his face. He looked confused.

She nodded.

"You were going to break into Gryffindor Tower and search for…" his voice trailed off. "This is madness."

After a moment, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Okay, let's start again. What's your name?"

"Ruby Prince."

"Why are you here?"

She blinked. "You stunned me and brought me here."

"No," he sighed. "I mean why are you here at Hogwarts? That morning weeks ago when you were brought into the infirmary… what were you doing here in the first place?"

She didn't want to tell him, but the words escaped against her will. "I was looking for the Elder Wand."

"What is the Elder Wand?" Genuine confusion.

"A weapon that can kill Voldemort." She winced, aware that she'd just admitted to treason.

"Voldemort is already dead. Why are you trying to kill a dead man?"

He was wrong, Ruby thought. Voldemort was alive. Voldemort was sitting in his secret room at the New Ministry as they spoke, being beautiful and monstrous and threatening everyone Ruby loved.

Voldemort liked the questions and answer game, too, only he liked to be a bit more hands on. And he liked to do both parts.

Something - the potion, perhaps, or the exchange, or both - broke her mind open. Suddenly she saw and heard and felt everything that she tried so hard to forget. The memories that she buried under the floorboards of her grey room weeks and weeks ago - the sensations, the emotions - came rushing over her.

_She's ushered first into a dark antechamber and through a series of well-warded doors. The whole time she is thinking that this might be the last day, hour, minute of her life. Dead at thirteen. An empty board room, where she waits, head bowed, until a hidden door opens. She is led through into another, larger room with a circle of sickly light and a circle of silent figures surrounding a huge, intricately carved chair. It is so grand she would have called it a throne, if she ever was to speak of this. She will never speak of this._

_Head bowed in the expected pose of contrition, she stares at the dusty Persian carpet. Wizards aren't as good at cleaning as house-elves had been, and since the war there aren't enough house-elves to go around, even at the New Ministry. She doesn't know that from experience; it's just something the adults say._

_Literally called on the carpet, called to explain herself before the school's Board of Governors, which is really just Lord Voldemort and a handful of his loyal cronies. Ruby doubts that any of them have an interest in education._

_The Dark Lord is sitting on the throne, and he invites Ruby to sit on his lap as she has done many times in the past. Just like every time in the past, she can't help but tremble and gaze at him. He is so beautiful with his perfect alabaster skin and sharp cheekbones, but his hands are icy and when he opens his mouth he smells like rotting meat. He knows about her latest petty rule breaking. He wants to know why._

_It was stupid. Just a stupid muggle music record found in her school bag by a prefect. Forbidden. She thought it was harmless. She hadn't even listened to it yet, only just got it from Ellie Harding that morning. Some muggle band Ellie liked, Pet Shop Boys. She doesn't tell on the girl._

_She is reminded, rather forcefully, that muggle culture dilutes and contaminates everything it touches. She has introduced poison into their society._

_"What do you think your father would say about you, Ruby, if he could see this?"_

_Her pulse races. Her entire body tenses. She tries to Occlude, and gives it up as hopeless._

_"I think I know," he says. "Shall I tell you?"_

_The contraband is just the latest in a record of petty crimes. They've given her detention, given her beatings, hexed her, threatened and intimidated her. Still she misbehaves out of pure stubbornness. If she was any other half-blood, if she was not the daughter of Severus Prince, she wouldn't have been given so many chances._

_"I think your father would despise your depravity and your blatant disrespect for our laws. I think he would despise you."_

_Cold hands are around her neck, pressing, lifting her face to stare into red eyes._

_"Your father was burdened with you, and now Black after him."_

_Her stomach clenches. She twists in his grasp. He is strangling her._

_"Believe me when I tell you that no one else will tolerate your degeneracy."_

_She can't breathe. Her head pounds in rhythm: I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die_

_"If you continue to shame this pureblood family, I will find a hole to bury you in."_

_She starts to slip out of consciousness and his grip relaxes a bit, just enough so she doesn't black out._

_"Remember, there are others I could hurt before you."_

_The Dark Lord doesn't need to speak. He shows her: Narcissa, her face a bloody pulp. Draco, begging for mercy through pain-filled sobs. Sirius, broken and lifeless. Ruby tries to block out the images, tries to beg for mercy, tries calling for her mother like a frightened child. It feels like it never ends._

_She is returned to the middle of Arithmancy class later that day as though nothing happened. She hides the marks on her neck. She can't sleep for days after. She doesn't tell anyone. On the third sleepless night, she starts her planning._

Ruby shook the images from her head, breathing hard. She stared at Remus with wide eyes.

"Not this Voldemort," she gasped. "The other Voldemort. He said he'd hurt my- my friends. I need the Elder Wand to stop him."

Remus looked like he was trying very hard to understand and failing miserably. "Ruby," he said, "who can I call to help you? Your family perhaps? Tell me who they are."

Her heart was still racing. She huffed, annoyed to have to think about her pedigree, of all things, at that moment. She was able to resist spewing the well-rehearsed words for a moment. That was a relief. The fog seemed to be lifting.

Inevitably, and with a groan, she said it just as she'd been drilled to since she was a little girl. The abridged version: "I'm a half-blood. My mother was a muggleborn witch. My father was a descendant of House of Prince. His great-grandfather was Turlogh Fawley, heir of the House of Fawley."

Ruby grimaced. Reciting her degrees left a bad taste in her mouth. It reminded her of how little she mattered in a society that valued blood purity above all else. She knew that was the point.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Remus said slowly. "Who are your parents? What are their names? I'll contact them for you."

She hesitated again, struggled against telling him anything more. She didn't want to, and she almost resisted, stammering the names after a tense moment. "Lily… Evans. Sev- Severus Prince."

She didn't want to think about her parents. She didn't want to think about her father being alive, bleeding on the floor. Briefly, it occurred to her that her mum might still be alive here too, and tears came to her eyes. She blinked them away. She refused to think about it.

Remus looked stunned. "Lily? And Severus… Are you referring to Severus Snape?"

She sneered at him. "Snape is a muggle name. We're Prince, after his mum's family."

He didn't say anything for a long time. Ruby watched him think as she felt the effects of the potion finally lifting. The heaviness drained away from her mind. Her head hurt. She was thirsty and tired. She was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed and going numb and her hands still bound behind her back. Ruby could see the room now: small, and lit only by a single lamp near the door. No windows. She didn't remember coming here.

Ruby felt violated. She wanted to swear at him, but couldn't think of any good expletives to use. That was probably a side effect of whatever potion he'd used on her. She struggled to remember the particularly inventive one that Sirius shouted last Boxing Day during a drunken argument with the portrait of Mehitabel Black. _Something-mother-something... twat-waffle_?

How could she remember something so traumatic in such detail a few minutes ago, and not remember something that had her and Draco crying with laughter for hours? It wasn't fair!

"This is madness," Remus finally said, interrupting her fuming. "It can't be true, but you must believe it's true. The Veritaserum… How…" He hesitated and lowered his voice. "I want you to take me to Black. What can I do to get you to take me to him now, tonight?"

She considered the request. On one hand, she did want to get out of wherever she was and back to relative safety with the only person she knew. On the other hand, she couldn't bloody well blindly trust the man who hexed her and dosed her and forced her to tell him her secrets, could she? Even if he was Remus Lupin, the man Sirius used to say was the most incorruptible, trustworthy person he'd ever known.

She decided to be direct. "Are you going to kill him?"

He was surprised. He didn't seem to expect her to ask him a question. He hadn't been paying attention to how long the effects of the potion lasted, then. Foolish.

"No," he recovered and replied immediately. "No, I want to talk to him. I want to make sense of all of this. Truly. If I wanted him dead, I would have killed him in the dungeons."

He looked so earnest, all furrowed eyebrows and pleading eyes, and Ruby believed him. That didn't mean she trusted him, though. She hesitated, biting her lip.

"I'll hold your wand," she said at last. "Give me your wand and your word that you won't attack him or me, and I'll take you to Sirius."

After a moment, Remus nodded.

In another world, one where Ruby had never attempted the ritual and never found Hogwarts, it was months before Remus encountered Sirius again. That was also the day he improbably forgot to take his Wolfsbane potion and almost killed several students and a fellow professor.

It would take him years to get over that near-miss. He would never again fully trust himself during the full moon.

In yet another world, Remus left Ruby in the castle and tracked Sirius to the Shrieking Shack by himself. It took a while. The two had a violent and messy confrontation that left them both bloody and bruised before they finally collapsed into a tearful embrace. Firewhiskey was procured and things got… emotional.

Ruby would have preferred to be in that world. The same scenario played out for this world's Remus and Sirius, only she was there to witness it. She could have done without seeing the two of them completely rat-arsed, arm in arm and singing quidditch fight songs whilst bleeding from separate head wounds.

Unbeknownst to her, the uncomfortable reunion was just one of many challenges to come. The next few days would be darker and more painful than any of them could have imagined.

"Okay then," Ruby sighed. "Let's go."


End file.
